Requiem
Weyrleader S'rei WM M?ta Rider A'nd Harper/Handler Dmitri Weyrbrat Miguel
Posts: 2,861
|
Post by Requiem on Oct 5, 2011 8:38:47 GMT -5
"Oh, no worries. I'm sure it'll be strictly volunteer." M'ta's eyes ran up and down the woman, clearly assessing her. "And we can work on close quarters. How fast can you move?" She was built very strongly for a woman. Very. Not as strong as M'ta pound for pound but the extra height would probably make their strengths comparable, which was something rare enough in women. (M'ta was used to being well outstripped and outpowered by other men. That's where speed and finesse and quite a bit of dirty fighting you didn't learn from formal training came in.)
Really, though, it was probably a bit early to be considering how best to fix her problem with close quarter fighting; M'ta's leg still had at least a month, if not more, left to go before he could start working back up to full spars. And running. Shards but he missed his morning runs. It almost felt like he was going to one big glob of jiggling jelly, with all this inactivity. At least his arms weren't going to mush, too. One good thing?
He blinked at her again at mention of wanting to dissect the creatures. Why she used the word dissassemble like they were inanimate objects rather escaped him, unless it was her way of distancing herself from the fact that they had been alive at one point. Well, now she was sounding like all the other healers. What was a new lifeform if you didn't get a chance to dissect it and learn all it's secrets? Suffice it to say that M'ta had little interest in cutting things open and playing in their bodily fluids after they were dead. He would just stick to his pharmaceuticals.
"I don't know that the tunnels are too small for the whers? I don't think anyone has tried yet. They'd have to be given permission from the all-mighty Council, which as we all know takes its good sweet time about deciding anything." No, he rather thought that most of the tunnels here were built specifically for whers? But M'ta could be mistaken; he was not weyrbred and he didn't spend much time around wherhandlers.
"If I ever find a dead mystery creature I'll be sure to bring it to you so you can have at its organs?" he added, wrinkling his nose slightly. "And thus one more bit of evidence that we are healers, because that didn't just ruin my lunch." No, indeed, he was finishing his up right now, at a fairly impressive speed.
|
|
|
Post by dragon on Oct 5, 2011 22:21:32 GMT -5
"Fast?" Dorava asked, before taking a moment to do an honest assessment of her estimation of her abilities. "Fairly I guess. I've never had to really test it to the limits. I'm still alive today, I guess that means I've been fast enough so far. I ..." She hesitated, then continued. "I'm fast enough to jump from dragon to dragon and back again before hitting the ground. I realize that's a whole different thing, but ... a split moment can mean life or death?" She offered. "Actually, honestly speaking ... it's my bondeds that aren't fast enough and keep getting hurt." Dorava mused. Val, rest his soul, had gotten stomped. Aonith was always having to mend her wings again and again...
"Don't take my word for it!" Dorava protested. "I haven't gone to see the tunnels, and I certainly don't know how big a typical wher is. I've seen them, sure. But I haven't really worked with any, and certainly don't know any personally." She pointed out. "It was merely an assumption ... and possibly a stupid one ... on my part. Made by the lack of reports of the whers going in there at all." She deflated a little, at which point she noticed her lunch again. Poking at it idly, she started eating it again. "Not that I hear a lot of what goes on either, but eh." She shrugged. "Anyway, the point is I don't know. Don't go by anything I say."
Dorava laughed a little at his offer to bring a critter back to her. "Okay, thanks." She paused a moment and looked thoughtfully at her lunch before laughing again. "I guess you're right." It certainly hadn't affected her ability to eat, either. Though she was a long shot behind M'ta for finishing. Mostly because she didn't tend to eat and talk at the same time.
"It can't be strictly volunteer." Dorava mused as she picked apart some of her food with her utensil. "Taking into account those who were here at the time ... there would be too many volunteers. Taking into account those who weren't but are curious ... there would be even more too many volunteers. There's got to be a selection process somewhere. But ... I do have to agree with you. This whole Council idea is too ... gummy? For my tastes. Action gets bogged down by ... arguments and debate." She wrinkled her face up and poked at what was left of her lunch again. "I dunno, maybe if all Weyrs were run that way, the war wouldn't have happened. Maybe we're just not used to it."
|
|
Requiem
Weyrleader S'rei WM M?ta Rider A'nd Harper/Handler Dmitri Weyrbrat Miguel
Posts: 2,861
|
Post by Requiem on Oct 6, 2011 7:02:41 GMT -5
That was a rather...convoluted answer. And M'ta found his mind straying to this idea of jumping off dragons. Even he, who was a fairly fearless sort, found that he would never really want to do that on purpose. It just had so many variables you couldn't control, including other dragons suddenly appearing where you were falling. The brownrider idly wondered if it was possible for a dragon to between around a human...then he made a face. That would be a disgusting mess. It seemed they'd just have to test her speed later.
What really surprised him, though, was the vehemency behind her protest when he'd disagreed with her, insisting that she didn't know and not to take what she'd said seriously. M'ta had to resist glancing over his shoulder to see just who was giving her the evil eye. He knew he could be intimidating, but this was him being friendly. Maybe his friendliness needed work...It couldn't be the rank. Yes, technically his knots reflected those of Caden's, but he refused to wear them the majority of the time because that was just silly. He wasn't much more than a glorified babysitter with a little bit of training instructor mixed in.
"Dorava?" Frowning slightly, he touched her arm. "I really have no clue either. I just figured the tunnels probably aren't too small, and only because whers are used for mining. I've never seen the tunnels we're talking about either." He moved his hand away. "They could very well be too small. Your guess is as good as mine." And why she was so quick to backpedal he still didn't understand. Faranth knew it was more than okay to disagree with him! That, or there were a boatload of people in the wrong because they liked to disagree with him all the time.
The small brownrider stretched as he finished up the last of his food and glanced sidelong at Dorava while she continued. "I don't pretend to understand politics or leaders or any of that junk. The Lordholder where I grew up had a price on my head when I left," he added cheerfully. "Most of the ones I've seen at Selenitas weren't evil, just stupid. Or lazy. For us little peons I don't suppose it matters much at all; we still have no say. We went from a rotating dictatorship to a permanent elitist club," he concluded with a wry grin. "I like E'rro though so I guess that's something."
|
|
|
Post by dragon on Oct 6, 2011 21:37:45 GMT -5
A lot of time, training, and thought had gone into perfecting what Dorava did. She had often contemplated what would happen should a dragon decide to snap her out of the air, as well as other ghastly horrors. But being betweened around was actually one thing that hadn't occurred to her to contemplate. Thankfully it still hadn't, for that was one thing that might give her pause.
All mights aside, one thing that did give her pause was the way M'ta said her name ... and then touched her. Much less what followed that. She just looked at him, struggling all the while not to show the shock that was coursing through her mind. No one ... ever ... had ever done any such thing. Any of that. It was very ... nice ... what he said and did just then. No one was ever nice. Not like that. Hesitantly she smiled a little, wondering what the catch was. There had to be a catch. Why was he being so nice?
First forgiving her for whacking him in the face with a rock, and then offering to train her ... and now this. It was almost enough to make her blow a few fuses. It was difficult at best to wrap her mind around. Even if what he said did make complete sense. "Oh." She answered simply, not sure what else she could possibly say. Or do, for that matter.
"A price on your head?" Dorava repeated. "Uh ... mind if I ask why?" She hazarded, not entirely sure if that was a good thing to do. But again he was right ... regardless who was running the place, or how that person was selected, it was still something far outside of their control. What happened to and around the lot of them was as fickle as the wind it seemed. Though the actual wind in this place was ... well ... lacking. "I try to avoid getting noticed by any muckey-mucks, personally." She admitted. "It's usually bad for my health." After a moment of scraping to gather the scrap bits of her meal together, she finished the dish off before offering a tiny shrug. "At this point, it's more of a reflexive habit than anything else. It's been a long road from my first home where I didn't have to worry about such things."
|
|
Requiem
Weyrleader S'rei WM M?ta Rider A'nd Harper/Handler Dmitri Weyrbrat Miguel
Posts: 2,861
|
Post by Requiem on Oct 7, 2011 7:35:34 GMT -5
"Thievery and murder." The answer was given so flippantly it hardly seemed like it bothered him at all. At her next comment, though, he couldn't help but chuckle, even if the sound was something of a dark one. "Indeed. Meddle in the affairs of the powerful and most often you end up shorter by a head." Figuratively speaking, of course. He was pretty sure that beheadings were antiquated and perhaps even obsolete by now.
Taking one of the last sips of his water, he considered just leaving Dorava to whatever conclusions she might draw from his words. No doubt it would get out (spread intentionally or no) and bolster the reputation of an already intimidating midget. Escaped criminal. Watch out or he might kill you in your sleep. Though, to be fair, he had done that not so terribly long ago, hadn't he? Ironies.
"Actually, the first time my head was worth anything to anyone, it was for being a kid, homeless, eating out of soup kitchens he didn't want to fund and dirtying up his streets," M'ta commented more soberly. "Wasn't worth much. In a starving hold, though, it was more than enough to send those of us not caught right away underground. If you didn't steal..." He flashed a wry smile at her.
"Get good enough at that and arrogant enough to go after wealthy marks protected by the Lord and he starts taking a more personal interest." M'ta spun a fork through his fingers. "We were caught three turns after martial law was declared. I killed three men two turns later to escape. And I had every intention of killing the Lord or dying in the process." The brownrider shrugged a shoulder. "But I ended up at Selenitas instead so that's that." A smile was flashed at Dorava.
"Really should be getting back to work. If you wanted to come see what I need done you're more than welcome to? I don't know what your schedule looks like today."
|
|
|
Post by dragon on Oct 7, 2011 22:26:13 GMT -5
Thievery and murder. Somehow, that really didn't surprise her at all. After all a fellow had to get his reputation somehow. He'd certainly made it through every attack alive. Clearly, he was still here today. But, he didn't just leave it at that. Eventually he elaborated on the statement, explaining it out a little. Which ... made it sound a whole lot less bad, but just as serious. Dorava listened to everything he said, offering a nod on occasion to show she was not only listening but understood.
"So in other words, he wanted you dead cause you were too good at surviving." She said, boiling it down to a nutshell. "Sounds like a good talent to have, to me, all things considered." Though it did tend to make a phenomenal number of enemies. Interestingly enough. Even Selenitas had that problem. Wouldn't die, and thus vexed everyone else quite sorely.
"Sure ... clearly I have too much time on my hands today." Dorava offered with a rueful smile. "I can follow you. Make sure you don't bang anything up." She teased lightly with a grin as she rose from her seat. Gathering up the dishes and things, she carried them off to deposit them where they would be found to be carried off the rest of the way. Wherever such things were taken these days to get cleaned. Catching up a handful of small dried treats she poked them into her pocket as she walked back to where M'ta was. Just in case Love turned up and started to be a pain.
"How did you end up at Selenitas?" Dorava asked as she rejoined him. "It seems a very long and strange jump."
|
|
Requiem
Weyrleader S'rei WM M?ta Rider A'nd Harper/Handler Dmitri Weyrbrat Miguel
Posts: 2,861
|
Post by Requiem on Oct 9, 2011 10:31:55 GMT -5
Dorava's conclusion to M'ta's brief story was an interesting one. He would have never claimed as much himself. Really, never would have. In his mind the Bitran Lord was some unfathomable evil, hoarding wealth to distribute to a few of his favorites while letting the rest of his people starve. Keeping order in his Hold by selling off the unfortunates who fought against dying of starvation and exposure to the mines and to less savory businesses that trafficked in human flesh. The only business more disgusting was the dragonless slave trade, a Fort construction...and that only because it preyed on people going through perhaps the worst loss they'd ever sustain or could possibly suffer. Breaking them down into something so pitiful and docile it seemed they'd had their humanity stripped from them.
He'd only met the Lordholder once. M'ta still didn't know if the officer of the guardsmen had deliberately lied to him or no, the one who promised if they didn't try to fight his den would just be sold to the mines. He remembered Shitaki arguing with him. But he'd known better. At 13, he'd always known better. They could survive in the mines, escape, maybe without him but he knew his den could. Yes, little Mutasim and his small den of thieves, taking on the world and expecting to win. Maybe the officer hadn't known that the Lord would string them all up. Some of the den had been no older than six. That was the first and last time he saw the Lordholder's face, but it was burned into his memory.
There was no one in the world M'ta hated. Except him. Except Lordholder Raluran. Somewhere in his mind he'd always figured the man hated him just as much but...Dorava was right. More likely M'ta was just an insect that refused to die to that man. A source of income that had gotten away at most. Heh. Not that it really mattered at this point. That chapter of his life had been closed for nearly ten turns now.
In response to Dorava, he merely smiled wryly and agreed, "That seems to be my main talent: survival." Ka'rys had told him once that the reason he and 'Ruth were on Legatus was for that and that reason alone. Because M'ta was a survivor. They were little more than weyrlings when they joined, and 'Ruth was no fighter; he hated violence. Ka'rys didn't value M'ta much as a fighter, either, because he was too unpolished, too untrained. But surviving...the escape routes, Legatus making it away in the invasion, were all designed and implemented by M'ta. He'd survived exposure in winters so harsh it killed people with proper homes and fires to warm them, survived starvation and the violence that came from desperation, evaded capture for turns while living as a thief, survived two turns of abuse and drug batteries that, ironically, had actually made him immune to most drugs and poisons in the end. (Not to mention painkillers which actually kind of sucked.)
By the time Dorava returned, the brownrider had gotten his crutches beneath him and had mostly closed the door to this fun little deluge of memories he'd rather not revisit. Some part of him absently noted that she was still taking care of him. Taking care of his tray without making a big deal of it. A nice thing to do. "Oh, that. I lined up with some kids for Search because the guards in that part of the street were thick. Didn't expect to be Searched. Couldn't make a scene or the guards might notice me after all. Figured I'd just make my way back to Bitra when I got the chance and the heat might have died down by then."
He chuckled, making his way across the dining hall and out into the warren of tunnels that was the Weyr proper. "Turned out the joke was very much on me; it was a Selenitas Searchdragon. Ballsy pair, too, coming to a Benden Hold to Search. I probably could have gotten back if I really wanted to, made my way to the sea and stowed away or gotten hired on as a shiphand. Never really thought about it, honestly. Was too taken aback at being on a whole other continent where it was always warm and there was always enough food...and giants were bred. Come to find out Bitra's just a Hold of midgets, though. The rest of you northerners are 'giants' too."
As they made their way to his office, he asked, "So how about you? What's your story? It sounds like you weren't born at Benden Weyr, so how did you come to be a dragonrider and end up here in the South?" Not that M'ta remembered her mentioning anything about being from Benden Weyr, and her accent certainly wasn't thick. He just was from the same region of the world and he'd recognize anyone else from there right away.
|
|
|
Post by dragon on Oct 9, 2011 21:27:37 GMT -5
Dorava was surprised ... he'd been searched straight to Selenitas. Ballsy searchers, indeed! Though she really couldn't fathom why he'd ever even considered trying to go back. Why? To what? More misery? Especially given the way he described the South. Warm, full of food, and people. Though she could only smile ruefully at his comment on everyone being so big. He was just ... not big. She, even, was no standard to rule by. Taller and thicker than most women tended to be. Especially for the North. Ah, the wonders of growing up in a rural setting.
"Why would you want to go back to all that awfulness?" Dorava asked quietly, unable to resist the prickling of curiosity.
But, since she was being so very nosy, the least she could do was answer his question in kind. "I don't really have much of a story." She confessed. "I grew up in the countryside, and my pa let me run pretty much wild. I did boy-type things. Fooling around outside, working the stock with him, and ... pretty much growing up as if I was a son instead of a daughter. It ... gave me a bit too much of a strong head that got me into a lot of trouble later on, let me tell you. I eventually ended up Searched to Benden Weyr, where I Impressed Aonith. Who ... promptly got her strong head from me. All while I was trying to figure out how to keep my head down and not get into so many scuffles with the other denizens. It was hard for me to back down when they were nasty..." She shrugged. "Such as it went for a long time, until Aonith was wounded during a 'fall. She ... didn't heal right, and I couldn't get her the attention she needed. What with being green, and all that. Unimportant as it were. It was ... something of the last straw. She and I took off out across the ocean. We had no idea where we were going or how to get there, honestly. But anywhere had to be better, and she needed care. It took us two days to cross the ocean, and a while after to actually find Selenitas. At which point we were practically driven out of the sky on sight. Though I really can't blame the reaction. It wasn't like we were legal or even announced." She shrugged again. "But Aonith got the care she needed ... it was worse than I thought too. I am glad she got it. Looking back, I have to marvel at how the infection kept from getting into her ichor and killing her." Dorava chewed her bottom lip for a bit. "But ... that's what got me into learning official Dragonhealing. I didn't ever want that to happen again. I pretty much vowed that as long as I was able bodied, Aonith would never want for the proper care again."
Morbid as that was, it was the truth. "But yeah ... not really an interesting history to tell stories about. I am glad to be away from Benden though ... I am glad I was enough of a nobody to not really get noticed those times that Benden came through. I never want to go back."
|
|
Requiem
Weyrleader S'rei WM M?ta Rider A'nd Harper/Handler Dmitri Weyrbrat Miguel
Posts: 2,861
|
Post by Requiem on Oct 10, 2011 23:09:55 GMT -5
Yeah, he'd buy it. She looked like someone who had grown up in the dirt and sunlight and happy for it. Would certainly explain her stronger build. And yes, he could see like a woman like that and a dragon who emulated her might have trouble at Benden, even if he'd never been to that particular Weyr himself. M'ta was well aware of how little stock Benden in particular put in their dragonriders; there were always many more where they came from, especially the greens.
The rest of the story, though, had him frowning just a little bit. Odd. He understood needing to get her dragon help, but the first thing that would have occurred to him was to take her to Healer Hall at Fort Hold. It was neutral and had always been. R'wign described it as being divided into two separate sections, even, one for Fort riders and one for Benden. Then again, if she didn't have orders to do so...still, he would have thought even that would have been less risky than attempting a flight on on injured dragon across the ocean with no idea which direction they were headed. If nothing else, they might have attempted the flight after having Aonith treated at Healer Hall rather than returning to Benden. There was no guarantee Selenitas would even have the healing capability she needed; it certainly hadn't before Kalierre arrived.
Dorava and Aonith were very lucky. Clearly. Though that kind of went a bit without saying, didn't it? How many times had Aonith's wings been shredded? She could still fly a wing. It had only taken once for Behruth, and that with R'wign and Kalierre both fussing over him. Some people were just luckier than others. Jumping from dragon to dragon required about as much luck as skill, too, come to think of it...
"That sounds very risky, actually. Extremely. You both are very lucky. I would have been afraid that my dragon's injuries would land us both in the ocean to drown..." He pushed the door open to his office with a shoulder, clearly more than used to looking after himself in such situations, and moved over to his desk to rifle through it for clean parchment. The question she'd asked him earlier had been buried beneath her story, but he hadn't forgotten it.
"I hated him, Dorava. Part of me still does. He destroyed the only family I knew, among other things. When I first got here that was the only thing driving me. It's not as important anymore." M'ta snorted softly. "Killing him wouldn't have solved anything, anyway. That Hold is too corrupt and it would do nothing for those already dead."
|
|
|
Post by dragon on Oct 11, 2011 23:54:09 GMT -5
Dorava considered what he said as she followed him in through the door, pushing it shut again behind her without really thinking about it much. "Lucky. I guess so. Though I admit I have never once considered myself in any way at all lucky." Sometimes a fresh perspective did help. "We did end up in the ocean. Frequently. We overnighted in the water. Aonith's good at floating, actually. When she got tired, we would stop and swim instead. I tell you getting back out of the water is a trick." She shrugged. "Her injuries were not so bad that she couldn't fly. They were just so bad that her health was deteriorating. Infections, all that fun stuff." Dorava answered.
His explanation of his own motivations was something that made her grimace for a moment. She could understand the sentiment entirely ... but it also tended to indicate that at one time he had identified and defined himself around who his enemy was. Pretty much all he had existed for was to destroy his enemy. Thankfully now he seemed to have realized the folly that would lead to, judging by his following comment. "I .. see." She answered, watching as he rifled through untidy heaps of parchments. Somehow she could easily believe that most of them were unread.
"Is he still alive, then?" She asked. Surely by now someone had offed the fellow if he was as terrible as all that. Whether or not M'ta would still have tabs on the man or not ... she wasn't sure. It all depended greatly on how M'ta had handled that part of himself and his past.
"What are you needing me to write down?" Dorava asked, taking a peek around the office and picking up a few writing utensils that she spotted lying about.
|
|
Requiem
Weyrleader S'rei WM M?ta Rider A'nd Harper/Handler Dmitri Weyrbrat Miguel
Posts: 2,861
|
Post by Requiem on Oct 12, 2011 8:50:13 GMT -5
M'ta still found her explanation a bit...well, wild. He supposed people were willing to do just about anything when they were desperate, though. (The brownrider should know that better than anyone. He'd taken the whole sadism/masochism to a whole new dangerous level after R'wign died because the alternative was even worse and he didn't know how else to keep his own emotions in check. Losing 'Ruth because M'ta's will to live was so tenuous would have been...well, disastrous for Teri, if nothing else. He didn't really think much of anyone else would have cared.) He'd been through injuries festering, though. That wasn't something to be taken lightly. Your body was literally rotting alive, so he highly doubted it hadn't effected Aonith's ability to fly, but there was no point in arguing that. It had worked out. Aonith was fine. In fact, it was almost enough to provoke a bitter reaction, except he didn't wish ill on other people. It just didn't seem altogether fair that 'Ruth hadn't been so lucky under such better conditions. Honestly, though, he should be thankful; the brown had exceeded Kalierre's expectations in his recovery.
M'ta flashed Dorava a decidedly feral smile over his shoulder when she responded so noncomittally. So it bothered her that he'd been motivated by such an unworthy desire, hm? He wasn't the type to lie just to make himself look better. Revenge had been the only thing in his mind. And why not? Everything he cared about was gone, destroyed by one man. Everything. Everyone. If hatred hadn't been feeding him he'd probably have taken his own life, so he didn't regret it. There were a lot darker things in his past than simply hating the man who'd made his life a living hell and killed so many he'd cared about. Plenty of darker things.
Her question was greeted with little more than a shrug. "Not sure. Maybe? He was last I heard, but that was back when Jazzy first came across the ocean...before R'wign and I joined." Turns ago. He'd actually been there specifically to finish arrangements for their joining when he'd first met his sister Jazheera and Ruliana. "I don't imagine it matters all that much. Someone equally as bad is likely to take his place. Bitra never turned out much good." He chuckled. "Take me." It was only half a joke.
"Dragoncare things. In brief, just common illnesses and injuries for young dragons. They're all supposed to pick one and research it so not enough information that it'll do the work for them." Waiting for her to get situated, he began dictating the brief descriptions he wanted to her.
(OOC: If you wanted to stop it here or just skip to after the dictation part either is cool with me. ^^)
|
|